


Close Shave

by randompandemic



Series: Cullen & Róisín [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4117201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randompandemic/pseuds/randompandemic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor finds Cullen in the morning and offers him a helping hand while shaving. The perfect opportunity to be a little nosy about the origin of that particular scar she enjoys kissing so much...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Shave

He leaned over the bowl of water, had the shaving cream rubbed all over his face and was contemplating where to begin when he saw movement in the blurry reflection in the mirror. He looked back and a smile came to his lips. Róisín stood in the door behind him, her black hair in a dishevelled morning mess, cheeks still rosy from the warmth of their bed, and she was wrapped only in one of his tunics. It was much too large on her lovely form and it teasingly slipped off one shoulder, practically asking to be kissed. She was barefoot on the stone floor, toes curled a little against the cold.

“Morning again,” she said.

“You are a sight for sore eyes.”

She chuckled and came closer. She pushed him back on his chair gently and before he could protest she had flipped one leg over him, straddled him and caressed his bare shoulders. She leaned down, carefully avoided to get shaving cream all over her, and gently pressed her lips to his throat, just below his Adam’s apple. With her every move, her warm thighs brushed against his, he felt it through his linen trousers, and her hips ground against his, stirring his desire for her up again. He closed his eyes. “Hmmm… you are a most pleasant distraction…”

“Aren’t I?” she said with a sweet chuckle, her breath warm against his skin.

“Care to help me?” he asked sheepishly. She sat back up, seemed to contemplate a moment. But then she held out a hand for the razor. He handed it to her, then closed his eyes and leaned back. He felt her move closer, close enough to feel her breasts against him through the fabric of the tunic she wore. He felt the cool metal of the razor blade scrape over the skin of his cheek. Nice and close. She took her time, thoroughly shaved his face, the underside of his jaw, part of his neck. She was especially careful on his chin and around his lips.

“How did that happen?” she asked, when she tenderly cleaned off the shaving cream around the tender flesh of his scar with the razor. When he drew in a breath to answer, she put down the blade to not accidentally cut him.

“It wasn’t a shaving accident,” he teased. He could practically _hear_ her roll her eyes.

“I figured as much.”

He laughed a little and it made her hips rock against him, he felt her free hand on his bare chest to steady herself. “So?…”

“It was,” he said. But he hesitated to finish. He never liked talking about his scars. Or the wounds he got them from. He should be over that, he should be able to tell her about things like that, should be able to admit that he, too, could be vulnerable. But a life of forcing himself to ‘be strong’ and never show weakness held him captive. Perhaps that was the reason why he still had not been able to tell anyone, including her, what had happened at Kinloch Hold. Why he had always talked his way out of it by vaguely referring to ‘Uldred’s depravities’. He knew there was no reason to keep such things from her. But what if… what if she looked at him differently then? What if she thought him weak, a liability? He would not be able to bear a look of pity in her eyes. He did not want _pity_. Least of all from the woman on whose shoulders all of Thedas rested right now, the woman who – for reasons he could not even understand himself – had chosen to love him. So, to his shame, he lied. Made up a story right there, on the spot, that would have made Varric Tethras proud. “It happened the day the veil started tearing. I was visiting Highever, at the coast of Ferelden, on diplomatic business with Viscountess Aveline Vallen of Kirkwall and her husband, Ser Donnic. We were in the middle of a banquet when the sky ripped open and demons poured out. We had no weapons, no armour, just festive wardrobe and cutlery. So, Aveline gets up, rips half her skirt off so she can move better, grabs a poker from a pig and a huge golden plate as a shield and yells ‘Do these demons think they can ambush me? I’ve been friends with Ariadne Hawke for ten years, _nothing_ can surprise me!’ and storms out to fight her way through.”

Róisín laughed heartily at his wild tale of adventure. One thing he could vouch for about being friends with Ariadne Hawke and her merry band of misfits: There was _never_ a dull moment, and it prepared them for quite literally every eventuality, so the story was not too far off. He had been in Highever with Aveline and Donnic, they had been at a banquet. Just some details were not quite as he portrayed them now. “So there we were, in the courtyard. I had nothing but a meat knife to my name and we cut our way through some vile creatures when I catch up with Aveline. She’s on edge, you just know it, she’s in the heat of the moment, and I was definitely too fast. I approach her, reach for her arm. She spins around and she hits me flat across the face with that poker. I stumble back, there’s blood everywhere. It was a matter of luck, she could have easily taken my eye, but she just got my lip. She apologised maybe a hundred times. We clear out the courtyard, I have a blood-soaked napkin on my face and my meat knife. It was surreal.”

By now Róisín was laughing so hard he feared she would slip off his lap any moment, so he placed his hands on her hips to hold her near, his thumbs drew circles through the fabric as he continued the story. “We held our ground until reinforcements got there and we could get our wounds patched up. We told the physician it was a beast that attacked me and clawed at my face. Aveline, Donnic, and the two of us are the only people alive who know the real story.”

“Really? Because that sounds an awful lot like a tale Varric would spin,” she teased. Cullen laughed and shook his head. Maybe she just knew he lied. He could believe that. He could easily believe that she saw right through him, but she did not push, she let him have this little story. He wrapped an arm around her waist, the other hand slowly travelled up under her tunic and it made her shiver. And Maker’s breathe, she was not wearing anything under that tunic. She gasped a little and pushed him back against the back rest of his chair. “Not done with you yet.”

She leaned closer again and this time he kept his gaze on her, watched her features while she finished the shave. She was attentive, focused on her task. When she was done, she took the wet cloth from the water bowl and cleaned his face and neck of leftover shavings. She was gentle, thorough, and she moved her body just deliberately teasing, making a soft, pleased moan escape him.

She put the towel away and leaned closer, her hands caressed over his smoothly shaved face. He looked up at her just as she descended to place light kisses on his jawline and chin and neck.

“Hmmm… I should let you do this more often…”

“Yes please…” she whispered and with a smile traced her lips over his, before they claimed a kiss. She tasted of fresh mint she used to clean her mouth in the morning and he traced his tongue over her lips, met hers in lazy, loving strokes. Her hands still caressed his smooth cheeks and he moaned into her mouth.

“Ah… you know where this new, clean shave will feel just great?” he asked.

“Where?”

He smirked up at her and hooked his arms under her knees.

“Between your thighs.”

He rose from the chair, causing her to chuckle while she wrapped her legs around him and her head fell forward to nibble his earlobe. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers ran through his bed hair. He carried her out of the bath chamber and back to the bedroom to celebrate that freshly shaved face. 


End file.
